


Chasing After Midnight With You

by tilallare0ne



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Dirty Talk, First Time, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Light-Hearted, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Ratchet and Megatron are mentioned heavily but don't appear, Sexual Fantasy, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, back at it again with the questionably platonic DriftRod fragging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:01:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25454332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tilallare0ne/pseuds/tilallare0ne
Summary: "So," Rodimus said, stretching out comfortably on the recharge slab. "Let's say you finally manage to get Ratchet into your berth. What would you do with him?""Primus," Drift sighed, gazing up at the ceiling. "Everything. Everything two mechs could possibly do together. I want all of it.""Well, what would you do first?"-Or: Rodimus and Drift get a little too revved up while talking about what they'd like to do to their respective crushes.
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock/Ratchet, Drift | Deadlock/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime, Megatron/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime
Comments: 20
Kudos: 171





	Chasing After Midnight With You

**Author's Note:**

> Set in that totally real, definitely 100% canon part of the MTMTE timeline where Drift & Megatron are on the Lost Light simultaneously and nothing terrible is happening, heh.

"You know," Rodimus said, lounging on his recharge slab as Drift wandered around his quarters, "We don't hang out like this often enough."

Drift paused his subtle tidying of Rodimus' things, raising an eyebrow. "We train together _every day_ , Roddy."

"Yeah, yeah," Rodimus said, waving a hand dismissively. "That's different, though. That's... you know, _work_. We never just... do _this_ anymore. Hang out for _fun_ , in _private_ , where no one can eavesdrop on us."

Drift laughed, coming over to sit on the edge of the berth. "What d'you want to talk about that you're worried about people eavesdropping on?"

Rodimus scooted over, making room for Drift to lay down. "I don't know. How about how badly you want to frag Ratchet?"

Drift groaned, flopping down next to him. "Okay, fair point."

Rodimus smirked. "So, you're decidedly _not_ over your crush on him?"

"You're one to talk," Drift replied, lightly kicking Rodimus' shin. "I've seen you staring at Megatron during command meetings more and more lately. How's _that_ going?"

"Hey, I'm working on it. There's only so many times a week I can drop datapads in front of him and seductively bend over to pick them up."

Drift laughed. "He probably thinks you're just clumsy."

"Whatever," Rodimus said, rolling his eyes. "Don't change the subject! We're talking about _your_ painful need for a good frag, not mine."

Drift sighed. "Okay, yes. Yes, I want to hop on Ratchet's spike more than anything else in the world right now. Happy?"

"I'll be happy when you make a move on him," Rodimus paused, then smirked. "Double happy if you let me watch."

"Primus, do not insert yourself into my sexual fantasies," Drift said, the corners of his mouth twitching as he tried not to laugh.

"I could help out," Rodimus said, poking Drift in the side. "I could be right there, whispering all the hottest interfacing tips in your audials while you frag him."

"Stop!" Drift said, batting Rodimus' hand away and erupting into giggles.

Rodimus laughed, dropping his head back on to the pillow with a muffled thump. "I mean, can you blame me for trying? I haven't gotten any since we left Cybertron-"

"Neither have I!"

"- _and_ I have to work with Megatron all day every day. At least you can avoid Ratchet if you want to! Being in the same room as Megatron for most of my waking hours is _torture_."

"Okay, valid point," Drift conceded. "I don't know how you get any work done."

"I mean, I'm not really any _less_ efficient than before he was co-captain. It's just that _now_ it's not because I'm slacking off; it's because all I can think about is him bending me over my desk and spiking me until I overload all over my stupid paperwork."

Drift laughed so hard his fans stuttered. "I don't know who would be more disappointed in you, Magnus or Optimus."

"Oh, yeah, keep talking about how much I'm disappointing those two, you have no idea how much that revs me up."

Both of them dissolved into a fresh fit of laughter, the full-frame kind that made Rodimus' optics leak lubricants. It felt good; there wasn't much to laugh about sometimes on the Lost Light, not when he was responsible for the lives and ill-considered actions of so many mechs. It was nice, for a moment, to forget about everything.

When their laughter finally subsided, Rodimus turned his head to look at Drift.

"So," he said, stretching out comfortably on the recharge slab. "Let's say you finally manage to get Ratchet into your berth. What would you do with him?"

"Primus," Drift sighed, gazing up at the ceiling. "Everything. Everything two mechs could possibly do together. I want all of it."

"Well, what would you do first?"

Drift closed his optics. "Kiss him. Nice and slow, for a long time. Run my hands all over his frame. His hips, his aft, his sides, his chest plates..."

"Sounds nice," Rodimus murmured. He could picture it so easily; Drift straddling Ratchet's broad thighs, his hands roaming everywhere as they kissed, soft gasps escaping into each other's mouths...

Primus. Not a bad mental image at all.

"What about you?" Drift asked. "You and Megatron, I mean."

Rodimus' engines revved softly. "Frag, I'd - I'd push him up against the door as soon as it closed behind us, pin him there and - he's so _strong_. I bet he'd flip us around, slam me against the door so hard it would rattle. Growl in my audial about how badly he's wanted to frag me all this time."

Drift made a soft humming noise, shifting his frame a little. "Then what?"

"I'd put my hand on the back of his head, press his face into my neck cables. Let him kiss them, bite them, maybe pull on them with his teeth." Rodimus raised a hand to his neck, tugging on the cables there gently. He felt a gush of lubricant slip from his valve, pooling behind his panel. His face flushed warm. They probably shouldn't keep talking about this, but…

Well, Rodimus _had_ always had a habit of thinking with his spike instead of his processor.

"What's next for you and Ratchet?" he asked.

Drift looked over at him, optics dimmed slightly. "I'd cup his panel, trace the seams there with my thumb. Feel how warm it is under my hand. Then I'd move down, nuzzle against it with my face, drag my tongue across it until it popped open. Watch his spike pressurize right in front of me."

Rodimus licked his lips. "I bet it's big," he said breathlessly.

Drift shivered. "I bet it is. I bet Megatron's is too."

Rodimus let his optics slip closed, imagining it. "Oh, yeah. Huge. I'd be there on my knees - right in front of it -"

"Do you think you could even fit it in your mouth?"

Rodimus' valve was soaking wet, his spike starting to press against his panel. "Frag - I don't know. Not all of it, maybe. But I'd try. Take him down my throat as far as I could until my optics watered."

Drift let out a noise that sounded vaguely like a cut-off moan. "Yeah, you would, wouldn't you? You'd let him frag your mouth, hold you down on his spike until you gagged."

Rodimus' panel slid open with an audible _click_. He was almost embarrassed, except -

Except he heard Drift's panel retract too, half a second later. He opened his eyes and watched Drift's spike pressurize.

It was pretty - long, slender; pearlescent white with red biolights trailing up the underside. From this angle, he couldn't see Drift's valve, but he suspected it was just as slick with lubricant as his own was.

He could feel Drift's eyes on his own array, too. Rodimus wasn't particularly self-conscious; he knew he had a nice spike, orange and red with bright yellow biolights. It wasn't extraordinarily long, but it _was_ decently thick. He felt a bead of lubricant leak from the tip, dripping down slowly.

He looked up to meet Drift's gaze. Drift looked revved up, optics darkened and bottom lip plate caught between his teeth, but also a little uncertain. This was new territory for them. They'd shared a handful of giggling, inebriated kisses over the years, on darkened dance floors and in booths at the back of bars, but this - the smell of arousal hanging heavy in the air, the whirr of vents and rumble of engines breaking the still air -

Rodimus could read the unspoken question in Drift's optics: _Is this okay?_

He licked his lips and whispered, "Tell me what you'd do next with Ratchet."

Drift groaned, reaching down to gently squeeze his own spike. "I'd lick a line up his spike, from the base to the tip. I'd take the tip into my mouth, swirl my tongue around it, just for a minute or two. Then I'd ask him if I could ride it."

"He'd say yes," said Rodimus breathlessly. "How could he say no to you?"

"Shut up," Drift said, but he looked flattered. It was almost a sweet moment, if not for the fact that they were both stroking their spikes now, falling into pace with one another unintentionally.

Rodimus rolled his hips up into his grip, groaning out loud. He should feel some kind of shame, except they were already _doing this_ , so what was the point in holding back?

"I'd want Megatron to pick me up and frag me against the door," he said, his valve leaking at the thought. "Good and hard and loud, so anyone walking by in the corridor could hear it."

"Yeah?" Drift breathed. He slipped two fingers from his free hand into his valve, moaning quietly. Rodimus could hear the soft, slick sounds it made. "I'd ride Ratchet nice and slow. Take his spike all the way in, then just grind my hips in circles. Lean down and press my forehead against his, kiss him and tease him until can't take it anymore and he just rolls us over and gives it to me good, _frag_ , Roddy, I want him _so bad_."

Rodimus whined, stroking his spike faster, picturing Drift and Ratchet, himself and Megatron, everything. His cooling fans were roaring, lubricant dripping between his thighs as his valve clenched down on nothing; he moaned as he imagined Megatron's spike - thick, silver, _gorgeous_ \- filling him up, stretching his calipers to their limit, _Primus_.

"Drift," Rodimus groaned. "Drift, frag, I want - _frag_ , Megatron, Primus, _Drift_." He barely registered the curses spilling from his vocalizer. Charge crackled under his plating, jumping to Drift's frame where their shoulders lay almost close enough to touch.

"Come here," Drift said breathlessly. He slipped an arm around Rodimus' waist, tugging until Rodimus got the hint and climbed on top of him. Rodimus' spike pressed against the slick folds of Drift's valve, and Drift rocked up against him, engine revving.

Rodimus took his spike in hand, bumping the head of it clumsily against Drift's entrance. "You want me to-?"

"Yes. _Please_."

"Okay," Rodimus breathed, nodding. "Okay, yeah."

He pressed his hips forward, spike sliding inside in one smooth motion. Drift was tight, warm, so fragging _wet_ , and the noises he made as Rodimus slid into him were incredible. It had been so long since Rodimus had felt another mech's frame against his like this; any thoughts of rhythm or technique fled from his processor as he rolled his hips gracelessly against Drift's, fast and desperate.

It only took a half-dozen thrusts for Drift to overload, static-laced moans pouring from his vocalizer as he buried his face in Rodimus' neck cables. Rodimus felt transfluid spill between them, Drift's spike twitching where it pressed against Rodimus' abdominal plating. Rodimus groaned, rocking his hips forward one more time as Drift's clenching valve pulled him over the edge.

His optics whited out, strut-deep pleasure searing through every inch of his frame as he pressed his hips flush against Drift's, spilling his overload inside him.

When the last of the aftershocks passed, he slumped forward onto Drift, waiting for his venting to return to a normal rhythm. Drift rubbed his back in slow, lazy circles.

"You're welcome," Rodimus said eventually, voice muffled from where his face was pressed against Drift's shoulder.

"Oh, please," Drift said, laughing. "You clearly needed that just as bad as I did."

Rodimus lifted his head to look at Drift, smiling slightly. "Okay, yeah. Thank you."

He felt his spike depressurize, slipping out of Drift's valve as it returned to its housing.

"Primus," Drift said, sighing. "I'd forgotten how good it feels to take an actual spike. Toys don't even come close."

"See, that's why you need an actual spike on the regular," Rodimus said. "Specifically: Ratchet's."

"I know," Drift said, sighing. "I just... don't want to make things weird between us if he doesn't feel the same. I don't want to mess up our friendship."

"That won't happen."

Drift raised an optic ridge at Rodimus. "How do you know?"

"Because," Rodimus said softly. "I've seen the way he looks at you when you're not looking. That's not the look of a mech who just wants to be friends."

Drift was silent for a moment, considering. "Megatron looks at you too," he said finally. "He's guarded - hard to read - but there's something there. His whole face softens when he's watching you."

Rodimus couldn't pretend that didn't make his spark beat a little faster. "Let's make a pact," he said. "I'll make a move on Megatron if you make a move on Ratchet. Soon. Before the next time things go sideways around here and we all end up in mortal peril."

Drift let out a snort of laughter. "That could be any minute, knowing our luck."

"Better get on it, then."

"Okay," Drift said. "Pact made." He pressed a quick, firm kiss to Rodimus' cheek. "Now get off me. Your frame is like a fragging furnace."

Rodimus huffed indignantly, rolling over onto the other side of the berth. "At least my vents don't wheeze when I recharge, unlike _some mechs_."

"Is that your way of kicking me out?" Drift teased.

Rodimus elbowed him in the side. "Shut up. You're staying the night."


End file.
